


Investigative Journalism

by spidermack



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: ? possibly, Angst, F/M, Fluff, High School, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Slow Burn, i think it's a slow burn we will see, like 17-18 year old peter parker, no 15 year olds in this circus yall, older Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 17:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16727514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidermack/pseuds/spidermack
Summary: Spider-Man is SO well known in Midtown School of Science and Technology, it's hard to ignore him, or be completely clueless about him. However, the hero is still pretty elusive. That's why you chose it as the subject of your next journalism project, and your best friend, Peter Parker, could not be any more... thrilled.





	1. Chapter 1

You never knew you could be so annoyed by silence.

It was the only thing you could blame at this point - there were no other distractions in sight. No one was chewing their gum too loud, or smashing away at the keyboard insistently. The library didn’t smell like sewer today, and you were tucked away at a table in the corner, far away from other human beings. The blank google doc was the silence’s fault, you decided, because nothing else could be the cause.

There was _one_ person who could have been to blame, but he was stringently working on his statistics homework, being the saint that he was. Peter Parker had done nothing wrong (as of yet), and it would be wrong to blame him for your failure to come up with a good idea for this assignment. But, you conceded, it would be _really_ easy to do so. 

You looked up from your chromebook to the brown haired nerd across from you, hoping to see him just disengaged as you were. Instead, he seemed invested in the problem before him, but stuck. Head down, hesitation over his features, a furrowed brow, biting his lip - a rare but known look. Usually, you were the one who needed help, and not the other way around.

“Y/N?” He hummed, his eyes remaining glued to the page. Although in desperate need of assistance, he wouldn’t admit defeat against the problem just yet. He would check his work over and over before finally giving in and asking for the tiniest hint. That’s just who Peter was: your stubborn _and_ smart friend.  

A small grin crept onto your face _._ He always had impeccable timing, like he knew that you were looking at him. “Yeah, Peter?”

This time, he finally met your gaze. He seemed to actually relax when he saw you weren’t annoyed or mad that he bothered you. His shoulders stopped being earrings, and an apologetic smile graced his lips. Without a second thought, he then placed a hand on the paper before him. 

“Can you help me with this problem?”

It slid across the table slowly.

“ _Please?_ ”

With a scoff and an over dramatic eye roll that earned an honest chuckle, you swiped the paper from his hands. It only took a simple glance for you to tell what was wrong. And with a little erasing, and a quick argument over what was the true way to determine if two events were independent or not, the problem was solved. Soon, the paper was tucked away, and the textbook was shut. 

“Now, I need _your_ help,” you said after giving him a moment to pack up.

Peter shifted in his chair, angling himself to face you more than before. He then cocked his head. “What about?”

“You know my journalism class?” 

He nodded. You talked about it so much, it was hard not to know.

“We have to write an article about… something. We have to investigate it. Find evidence. _Original_ evidence,” you rambled, but he nodded understandingly as you paused. “You know me. Usually, I’m already four pages in, single spaced! And I can’t think of a single thing to do it on.”

He took a moment to think over your words carefully. The journalism class at Midtown School of Science and Technology was known for pumping out some of the best journalists in the area, sometimes even getting articles published in the local paper as high schoolers. It meant a lot to you. If you could get something that was spectacular, you had a real chance of living out your dream.

“So… why are you asking _me_ for help?” Peter asked, fake confusion lacing his voice.

Your eyes narrowed. You didn’t want to play this game today. “I need a topic, you idiot.”

That earned a wide grin. He held up his hands in a silent apology before continuing. “What about something the student body is interested in?”

You paused as you thought over his words. As always, he was quick to come up with a semi-decent idea. However, there were lots of things that the student body was interested in; it was simply to broad of a topic. “Like what...?”

“Well…” He trailed off, seemingly collecting his own thoughts as his brow furrowed.  “Do something about…” His brown eyes lit up suddenly. “Social media!”

“Social… media?” You asked, doubt in your words.

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah! You could do it on how it affects teens, or how people rise to fame on it. There’s so much to consider.”

Social media _could_ be a good idea. There was a lot to the topic. Maybe it was still too much, but you could whittle it down pretty easily. How people rose to fame seemed to grab your interes-

It hit you then. And with it, the skepticism present on your face melted into a blank slate.

“Spider-Man.”

The words just tumbled out of your mouth. And they felt _right_. A smile came across your face in the moments after, pleased with the prospects of the project. But now that they were out, your words hit the air hard, and hung heavily in the silence that followed.

The previous excitement on Peter’s face was wiped away within an instant. It was replaced by pure fear. Pale skin, wide eyes, a blank stare - everything that he _wasn’t_.

“What?” He asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. It was barely above a whisper. If anything, he sounded… scared.

“Spider-Man,” you clarified. “I’m going to do my article on Spider-Man.”

Your friend’s complexion didn’t improve, and neither did his expression. If anything, he seemed to lose even more color in his face, and his heavy eye bags became excruciatingly apparent. Your stomach dropped just looking at him. Why was he like this, all of a sudden?

“He’s the perfect subject,” you tried to explain. “The entire school is obsessed with him, and so is Queens.”

Nothing.

You swallowed. “He’s easily accessible, and I could get a hold of him and possibly do an interview, no problem.”

Silence.

“And if he doesn’t want to do an interview, there’s enough information on him to do an in depth analysis.”

Peter leaned back in his seat almost immediately after you stopped talking. His fists curled into balls on the table, and his adam’s apple bobbed anxiously on his neck. He stared at you for a solid minute, trying to gauge if you were joking or not, before avoiding looking at you all together.

But you weren’t kidding. And nothing was going to change that.

“Did I say something wrong?” Your voice was much softer now, and void of the passion it had just moments earlier. If you upset your friend, you wanted to know why. You wanted to fix it. You wanted to make him just as happy as he was minutes before, and keep him that way.

His eyes grew wide as they shot up to you. “ _No!_ No no no no no _no_ ,” he said, shaking his head too hurriedly. “There’s _nothing_ wrong with Spider-Man.”

You unconsciously frowned, furrowing your brow. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I… uh…” His eyes darted to the ground as he stammered through a response. He was turning into a tomato right in front of your eyes. “I just…”

“What? Peter, you can tell me anything, you know that.” You wanted to reach out and touch him, _comfort_ him, but your hands stayed planted over the keys on your laptop. The screen was dark with how much time had passed.

He exhaled loudly before looking back up at you. He looked remorseful, with a sorrowful smile and soft eyes. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”

Your worry dissipated into thin air, but still hung slightly, like a fine mist on a humid and stormy day. You wanted to get to the root of his discomfort - his apprehension, for some odd reason - but knew your efforts would be fruitless. So you nodded, and kept silent.

“I think you should go with Spider-Man as your topic,” Peter said after taking a deep breath. He then plastered on a bright smile. “You’re obviously really passionate about it, and pretty knowledgeable on the subject.”

His smile was truly infectious. Before you realized, you had an equally wide grin on your face. “Thank you, Peter. I appreciate your full support of my endeavors.” 

And just like that, it was back to normal.

“You might be a little _too_ interested.”

You gasped. “Hey! No I’m not!”

He shrugged as he got out of his chair, standing up. He picked up his backpack with ease and swung it over his shoulders. “You sure about that?”

“Shut up,” you giggled, before doing the same. “If I ever saw him, at least I wouldn’t freak out.”

* * *

 

You spoke too soon.

Peter and you had gone your separate ways on your way home. Aunt May apparently wanted him to stop and grab something from the corner store, and he didn’t want to hold up your journey. So after you dropped him off at Delmar’s new location, you started your trek to your apartment.

You didn’t live that far from Midtown Science, but you still had quite a bit of a journey to go. Plugging in your headphones was the only logical choice to try and keep yourself occupied since you were by yourself today. Plus the unusually cold October day added another complication to the mix.

Peter just had to screw everything up by leaving you alone today, didn’t he?

Your sentiment didn’t last for long. Music slowly replaced the sounds of the city in your ears. The constant whir of traffic was now “ _Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds_ ” by the Beatles. The opening notes of the song carried you over the curb, across the crosswalk, and down the all too familiar street that you called your own. You could walk this street in your sleep.

Today was a good day, you decided after fully tuning out of the world around you. You finally figured out what your project was going to be about, and you already has so many ideas swimming in your head. Ideas about headlines and titles, facts and takes. Forget about your best friend’s apprehension, and forget about his discomfort. You were going to put yourself fully into this, and try and deliver the best product possible.

The pedestrian light ahead of you flashing green brought you back into reality. It took a second to re-adjust to your surroundings. However, as the seconds passed, no one pushed past you, or even pushed you forward. You were left standing, motionless. Strangely, there was no one around, at a second glance.

You just shrugged your shoulders and kept on trudging.

Despite the music in your ears, the din of the city was still audible. The vibrations of deep car horns and trains moving beneath your feet propelled you forward, with each and every step you took. Trees rustled with the wind.

In an instant, it all fell silent and still.

It only took a second more for you to see something out of the corner of your eyes, for you to look, and-

_“FUCK!”_

Something warm and hard bumped into you before it wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into the air with them as they soared higher and higher.

You yelled. You felt like you were falling - scratch that, you _were_ falling - and then would swing back up just in time before an untimely demise.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck FUCK!” You screamed. You were hanging onto the person barely, and felt like they were going to drop you at a second’s notice. You wrapped your arms around their neck, with death grip strength. Hopefully, you kidnapper/savior/whatever they were wouldn’t mind your need to survive overruling personal space.

Before you knew it, you were being set down on sturdy ground. Your legs wobbled furiously underneath your weight as you struggled to acclimate back. Just as you went to check if everything else about you was okay, you lifted your head, and your breath caught.

Standing in front of you was the hero, the myth, the legend: Spider-Man. His signature red and blue suit was distinct against the New York skyline. Your subject, the person you were going to be writing an entire article on, was standing right in front of you.

“Holy shit,” you breathed softly. You genuinely couldn’t believe it. A smile was on your face, like you were genuinely happy with the fact that he just risked your life swinging through the streets of your city.

The white and black eyes on his mask went wide. He shifted where he stood, moving to cross his arms across his chest. You could have sworn he swallowed, but the mask looked so thick it could have been a figment of your imagination.

“Hey,” he said, voice extremely muffled. “I’m…”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off.

Once again, his eyes went wide.

“You’re Spider-Man. It’s hard not to know who you are."

It almost looked like he breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, that’s me,” he awkwardly laughed. “Just saving people, doing my duty, you know!”

You nodded slowly. _How strange,_ you noted. Even though he just saved your life, and it was a complete coincidence that he was the subject of your new project, it was a perfect opportunity to get some primary evidence. Getting in contact with him again was going to be horrendous.

“Thank you so much, by the way. What... uh, what lead to you saving me?” You cursed yourself for not having your phone for voice memos, but you were sure this was a memory you would never forget.

Spider-Man stiffened, and he crossed his arms across his chest. He seemed offended by the inquiry, like you were questioning his personal integrity. All friendliness was replaced with pure suspicion. “Debris from an explosion was about to hit you. You would have gotten hurt.”

That… made sense, you decided. You didn’t really know what you were expecting from that kind of question, but whatever it was, your need for information seemed to grow.

“What _caused_ the explosion?”

A pause. “I’m not really sure, if I’m being honest. I tied them up but... I couldn’t stop it in time.” Remorse filled in the gaps between his words.

The conversation flatlined. You looked out to the horizon, and noticed a plume of thick, dark smoke in the air. A police helicopter seemed to already be heading that way. He must have swung a pretty far way to bring you to the top of your apartment building, blocks and blocks away from the scene of the crime.

You looked back to your rescuer to find him staring at you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you were interviewing me,” he said, breaking the silence with a chuckle to his voice. With his arms still crossed, he cocked his head.

The coincidences were abundant today, it seemed.

“Funnily enough, I just started a new journalism project today and I chose you as the subject.” Your cheeks burned as you said it, but you tried to ignore it. Saying out loud made it seem a little silly after all.

“I don’t want to keep you from writing your article. You probably have more than enough information now.” He paused, before taking a few steps back and pointing to the smoke in the distance. “I got some clean up to do, too.”

“We’ll see about the information part. Maybe I’ll stage a fake crime scene to get in contact in the future.”

That made him laugh. “Then I’ll have to check up on you to make sure you do me justice.”

It felt like you were plugged into an outlet, your nerves were buzzing with electricity. Everything that happened, or was happening, made you feel _alive_. You couldn’t stop it, no matter what. You had to take a deep breath before continuing.

“You don’t know anything about me, though. How are you going to do that?”

If only he didn’t wear a mask, and you could see the full facial expressions he was giving. The mask’s eyes narrowed before returning to normal. You could only imagine what was actually happening. “You’re right.”

“I _know_ I’m right, you don’t have to tell me.”

Spider-Man took a couple of steps closer. “What do I need to know, then?”

You pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact and faking deep thought. You then looked back to him, a small smile on your face. “My name is Y/N, I attend Midtown Science, and this is my apartment building. I live in the second condo from the top.”

He didn’t even glance before rolling into his next question, like it had been rehearsed. “Left, middle, or right apartment?”

“From the street? Left. Inside, I’m the apartment furthest down the hall.”

He nodded. Either he was going to utilize the information, or you just wasted some time giving out unnecessary details. You felt good doing it though. That was all that mattered.

The masked superhero stood still. If he was giving you a look, you couldn’t tell.

“You know I can’t see your facial expressions right?”

“Oh! No, I… I forgot. I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I was smiling because I was about to leave. It was nice… _meeting_ you, Y/N. I hope to see you again, soon.”

With that, he waved goodbye, and walked to the closest edge of the roof. Before he even sent out a web, he jumped off the edge of the building. You could feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. But then, thankfully, he popped back up again on the upswing, working his way through the block. Quickly, he was a red dot moving towards the _Avengers Tower_.

You could only watch until he just disappeared. You then turned, and made your way back into the building. It didn’t take long to go down the flight of stairs or make your way to your apartment. After fishing your keys out of your bag, and opening the door, you kicked off your shoes and scurried to your bedroom.

Without thinking, you picked up your phone, and called the most recent contact. They picked up instantly.

“Peter? I just met Spider-Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi to whoever read this far! thank you for reading my first fic on here :-) my name is mack and i have written before, but not on ao3! i hope you enjoyed and stick around for the rest of the series, i have a lot of stuff planned. thanks again :-)


	2. Chapter 2

“So let me get this straight:  _ Spider-Man _ saved you?” 

You smiled before nodding. “Either him, or a really good fake.”

Michelle’s eyes went wide while Ned’s face lit up like a string of lights. The two of them sat on the floor in front of your couch, listening to you retell the story of the encounter that took place only days earlier. You felt bad for not telling them sooner, but realized it was a perfect bomb to drop on your semi-weekly movie night. 

“Dude! That’s awesome!” Ned exclaimed before coming to a sudden stop. His eyes didn’t even leave yours as he leaned in, his voice turning into a whisper. “Did you have the chance to tell Peter yet?” 

You glanced over to your kitchen. That was where the person in question was popping microwave popcorn for the four of you. He was looking out the window until he -  _ almost instinctively _ \- turned to meet your gaze, his lips tugging up into an incredulous smile. 

You turned back to your other friends immediately. Something in your heart squeezed at his action; you wanted to ignore it. Clearing your throat, you continued. “He was the first person I told, actually. Right after it happened, I called him.” 

Michelle raised an eyebrow, before her eyes narrowed. Surprise flashed over Ned’s features as well. 

“And how did… he react?” She asked, her pause deliberate and well thought-out. 

The question caught you by surprise. You didn’t think too much about Peter’s reaction when it happened - you were coming off the high of meeting one of the most famous superheroes in the world. Was there any reason Peter would act strangely? Maybe he was apprehensive to the whole idea about Spider-Man, but he thought it was “ _super cool!_ ” that you met him.

Or did he?

“He was-”

“Popcorn’s ready!” Peter announced, cutting you off. The beeping of the microwave followed suit. You didn’t even bother continuing because Michelle and Ned had already sprinted into the kitchen, grabbing bowls and moving to douse the snack in cups of melted butter and salt.

You didn’t follow them. Instead, you stayed perfectly still. There was a sudden uneasy feeling in your stomach that was becoming more and more present as thoughts swirled in your head. Their words were strange, no doubt. Even the more reserved side of you was setting off alarms.

You grabbed the movie for the night -  _ Solo: A Star Wars Story _ \- from the coffee table before you and got up. Queuing it up to play on the big screen was meager enough to get you out of your headspace, you decided, and was precisely what you needed right now. 

No more weird thoughts about Peter and Spider-Man. No more weird thoughts for the night in  _ general _ . Just you, popcorn, and your friends watching a movie. 

The screen whirred to life easily as you pressed the  _ ON _ button on the remote. A few seconds passed as you skipped ahead through the previews. Finally, the title screen illuminated the pitch black room, and the accompanying score blasted through your parent’s soundsystem.

“That took you long enough.” 

You glanced towards the voice to find that everyone had already sat down, sprawled across the living room furniture. Ned hogged the armchair, while Michelle has laid down across the entirety of the sofa. The only room left was next to Peter, in the all too-cramped loveseat and ottoman that could barely manage two people. 

The scene before you didn’t usually surprise you. But tonight, with everything that just occurred, it did. 

You were just about to ask where to go when your pseudo-savior spoke up. 

“I already grabbed you popcorn and a blanket, Y/N,” Peter said with an easy smile. He scooted over to the side, making more room for you. 

“Thanks Parker,” you said, quietly. Your heart started to race for reasons you didn’t know the answer to. It felt like a war drum in your chest, with the way it was beating so vigorously. You didn’t make any show of it as you carefully navigated your way through the dark to where he was sitting before your brain could shut down along with it.

The movie was already starting when you crawled into the spot next to him. It looked worse than it actually was - there was a good inch of space between the two of you, even if you were semi-uncomfortable. Not that it mattered, anyway. You were sure if you did end up accidentally touching Peter, neither of you would mind. 

Half of a blanket was gently tossed over your lap before a bowl of popcorn followed. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was from, or know that he was probably watching you with a goofy smile, waiting to see your reaction.

_ “Thanks.” _

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, soft and sweet.

Something in the way he said those two words made your heart clench all over again, and a heat come across your cheeks. You bit the inside of your cheek as soon as you realized what was happening. In all the other times he had said those same words, you had never reacted the same way. What was so different about it now?

God, was this  _ weird. _

You swallowed your thoughts, and tried to turn your attention back to the movie. It worked to some degree - an entire hour of the movie passed - until you heard a snore from the corner of the room, and a sudden presence of warmth on your shoulders.

You had to turn your head only slightly to see that Peter has placed his arm over the back of the couch. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant or even uncomfortable, like you had expected; if anything, it was nice. But in the darkness of the night, and with his eyes trained on the screen, relaxation playing over his features, you wrote it off as an unaware action. 

Everything he did tonight made your heart skip, jump, whatever tonight. A million things, and only his actions creating a response. You didn’t  _ like _ it. You didn’t like it how whenever he looked at you it sent butterflies into your stomach, or how whenever he smiled it made you smile immediately too. You hated how he looked really good in anything, or how he had the best hair you’d ever seen. You hated every second of it, but also loved it so much too. 

Your breath hitched as your mind ceased to race. Your conclusion rang clear.  _ Fuck _ .

Peter stirred next to you, his arm shifting, but not completely leaving from your back. His brown eyes met yours instantly, full of concern and worry. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I…” Your throat felt raw as you spoke. You struggled to come up with a lie. “I almost fell asleep and was waking back up, sorry.” 

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “You had me worried there, Y/N,” he smiled. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Please,” you barely squeaked.

Your legs felt like cement as you padded to your bedroom. Your footsteps echoed in the hallway as you made the small but lonely trek. You knew Peter knew how to close down your apartment when your parents were gone, and you weren’t going to protest when he insisted on doing it, and made sure Ned and Michelle were set for the night.

You crawled into bed without hesitation, the mattress whining under your weight. It took a moment to get situated as you fumbled with the covers and pillows. As you laid down, however, your best friend walked in.

“Is it still cool if I sleepover?”   


You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to see in the dark. “Yeah.”

Peter took that as an invitation to slowly get into the sleeping bag on the air mattress next to your bed. Even with the boy sleeping in the same room as you, and the moonlight and city lights pouring into the room, your heart continued to pound annoyingly loud. You could feel it in your throat.

“Goodnight Y/N,” Peter whispered after settling, the words softly yet carefully tumbling out of his mouth.

You suppressed the smile that wanted to come to your face. “Goodnight, Parker.”

As you rolled away from him, shutting your eyes, you only had one thought:

You had a crush on your best friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks guys for being so supportive and patient! this chapter kinda sucks and is short and i dont really like the beginning but i needed to put it out there to establish the romantic side of things before we could get to the meat of it, yaknow? the action and the steam? anyways please enjoy and hopefully ill publish again soon :-) i wrote this when i was supposed to be studying for finals so RIP my grades yikes


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so this chapter has pretty graphic details of blood/wounds so please be weary :-)

_ How do you describe Spider-Man? _

You sniffled at the words on your screen, fingers momentarily hovering over the keyboard as you pondered the question yourself.

_ For starters, he’s… _

The cursor blinked at you for a few moments before sitting idle. 

_ He’s… _

You groaned.

The first part of the piece, an introductory inquiry to present to your teacher, was not due for a while. They even said starting it so soon was risky, especially without a clear idea of what story you wanted to convey. However, you ignored it.

You needed to clear your head.

With everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks, you needed to get your thoughts out of your system. Sleeping was becoming harder and harder each night with an overactive mind. So, in order to become a blank canvas that could bring sleep, you had to clean it; writing was the only way you knew how. 

You shut your eyes before taking a deep, slow breath. 

School starting, meeting Spider-Man, and finding out you had a crush on Peter was a heavy toll. 

That was the  _ last _ thing you wanted to figure out, especially after so many years of knowing him. Maybe you were showing signs all along, and that’s why Michelle and Ned were asking all the questions. Or maybe their inquisitiveness was the thing that pushed you off the edge into the dark, deep abyss below. Whatever they did - and they definitely did  _ something _ \- you didn’t like it, in any way, shape, or form.

Inhaling sharply, you reopened your eyes. The doc was  _ still _ completely bare. The light from the screen was the only source of light in your bedroom at 11 PM, illuminating your face and reflecting off the walls. The only thing on the doc, however, was the leading question. That was the one thing you wanted to keep.

You selected all the other text and hit  _ backspace _ .

“That’s better,” you muttered, but even then you didn’t believe it. It only meant you were all the way back to square one.

_ How do you describe Spider-Man? _

You paused. Suddenly, there was an itch deep within your skull, dying to be scratched. Your fingers soon started to fly over the keys on the laptop.

_ How do you describe the hero of Queens? The savior who has saved inhabitants of the borough for years? The man seen rubbing elbows numerous times with the one and only Tony Stark? _

Something outside tapped on your window, but you ignored it. This was the break that you  _ needed. _

_ Not one single person in this city can precisely describe him; he plays so many different roles in everyone’s lives, and shows up in so many numerous ways. Some know him as the kind person who helped them cross the street, while others know him as the person who saved their life from a gone wrong robbery. Some may have never had an experience with him, while others see him almost every single day. Spider-Man is different to every individual he comes across, whether that is intentional or not. _

The tapping continued. Now, it was significantly louder, and nearly impossible to ignore.

_ Asking someone if they’ve heard of Spider-Man is a litmus test to see if they’ve been living under a rock for the past year or two. Everyone in this city understands who he is, and most people could pick his costume out of a line up. _

It turned insistent -  _ needy _ \- all in the matter of seconds. 

You grit your teeth as your fingers stalled momentarily. There was a hopeful pause as the sound went away. A silent stand-off between you and whatever was on the other side of the window took place. You waited for a full minute for something, some noise or indication because they  _ now _ had your full attention. 

Surprisingly, nothing.

Cracking your neck, you began to type once more. 

_ However, no one  _ **_knows_ ** _ Spider-Man. His interactions are surface level. He avoids sticking around crime scenes for too long.  He makes extra sure he doesn’t reveal too many of his cards at once. No one knows how he got powers, or what keeps him to continue to save the city, even when he is treated so poorly by the cops and police, and sometimes, even the citizens.  _

_ That is the precise reason why I want to know Spider-Man.  _

The itch had been scratched. The fog in your mind had dissipated. 

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. Thank _ god _ that you did that. Even if you were going to probably delete it in the near future, the ability to clear your head to get wink of shut eye was crucial. Finally, you could sleep. 

You waited for the status of the document to read “ _ All changes saved in Drive”  _ before closing the lid of your laptop. The room grew dark in an instant, much to your sleep-deprived joy. The less light, the better. Just as you spun around, you saw it.

Or rather,  _ him. _

The tapping made sudden sense. Standing before you, in his messy glory, was Spider-Man. Panting, possibly grimacing, a definite hand covering its opposite shoulder in what you assumed to be an injury - it was hard to see. Only the outline of his body was visible, but the way he froze when you turned around only confirmed your suspicions that it truly  _ was _ him.

Neither of you made a sound. Neither of you moved. You just gaped at each other, stopped in time, unsure of what to do. 

The silence ended when Spider-Man coughed before he unceremoniously slumped to the floor, his back pressed to the wall underneath his entrance point. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, rapid and frightened. This was  _ not _ how you figured you’d see him again.

“Long time no see, Y/N,” he managed, his voice thick with pain. “Sorry for breaking and entering… and scaring you.”

“It’s fine.” It was  _ not  _ fine, but your heart answered before you could even think of a response. You swallowed. Your brain was going a million different directions, all of them pointless and stupid. “Are you… okay?”

He wasn’t okay, and you could tell, even in the darkness. Nonetheless, he laughed weakly at the question. “Just a small scratch, that’s all.” 

It took a moment to fumble with your lamp’s string and pull it. Light illuminated the room, and proved that it was far more than just a scratch. Blood splattered all over his suit, but the largest concentration of the deep crimson was underneath his fingertips, at his shoulder. 

Your breath caught just looking at him.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” said Spider-Man, the whites of his mask wide and trained on you. “I promise.”

“You have a literal bleeding  _ wound _ on your shoulder, dude.” You couldn’t help the snarkiness that came through, despite him coming to you in his hour of need.

He chuckled lightly. “It’s nothing. Only a part of the job description.”

You wanted to come back and tell him that it really wasn’t, that being a superhero also meant taking care of oneself to ensure the future safety of the area he was protecting, but you couldn’t. What did you know about being a superhero? You could only guess, and speculating so would just add insult to injury. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked instead, breaking the silence that had fallen over you. “Why did you come here?”

The masked hero stilled, his breaths the only audible noise in the room as he pondered the question. With the utmost sincerity in his voice, and no semblance of joking at all, he spoke. 

“I need help, and you were the first person I thought of.”

A moment passed as you processed his words. Your heart squeezed, with realization suddenly dawning on you. He needed  _ your _ help. He chose  _ you _ to help him. Spider-Man, the person who saved your life, trusted you enough after one meeting to mend his wounds after a nasty injury. Not Tony Stark, not anyone else. 

_ You _ .

Fuck Spider-Man for tugging at your heartstrings just enough to make you want to help him.

“Wait here,” you said, already getting to your feet. “I need to… grab some stuff.”

As you exited your bedroom to grab any and all medical supplies you could find, you saw him nod.

* * *

 

It took a moment to find what you were looking for. After carefully and silently rummaging through your house, you had what you presumed you needed. You carried an armful of gauze, medical tape, hydrogen peroxide, and neosporin back into your room. Thankfully, your newest patient didn’t move during the wait, as he was still in the same position you left him in. 

He chose not to verbally acknowledge your re-entrance, instead twisting his head to meet your worried gaze. The quiet continued as you set-up a makeshift workstation on the floor beside him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you sat down, ready to get to work. 

“Is it just your shoulder?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Your gaze focused on the shoulder he was still holding until you shifted to the eyes of his mask. 

“Yeah, it’s just my shoulder,” he said after a second or two. He hesitated before peeling his hand away, revealing the gash in its full glory. His gloved hand was caked with both dry and fresh blood. “My healing factor should take care of the rest soon enough.”

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of the power, but said nothing about it. You made a mental note to write that down after this was all taken care of. 

With new access to the wound, you could see that it really wasn’t that deep. It was three distinct claw lacerations, and nothing more. The area around the wound was a mess but much less to be concerned about. A sense of calm came over you when you recognized this wasn’t as bad as it would seem.

You picked up paper towel before dousing it in water from a half-empty water bottle you found on the ground. You carefully wrung it out as you spoke. “I’m gonna need better access to the wound.”

Despite whatever mental state he was in, Spider-Man got the memo. He didn’t even flinch as he hit the spider logo in the center of his chest with his bloodied hand, leaving a grotesque mark on the suit. It quickly slackened. You took the opportunity to grab the damaged sleeve and pull it off his arm.

The hero didn’t move to cover himself when faced with exposure. You moved the suit over the rest of his body, trying to maintain the thin veil of privacy you were breaking. He laid still, silent. Whatever you did, he didn’t seem to care.

You began with washing away the blood. Some of it had stained, tinting his pale skin pink. You didn’t even bother with trying to scrub it all away. You moved right along, pouring enough hydrogen peroxide for a lifetime onto another paper towel, before hesitating.

“What’s wrong?” His voice startled you, even though he was sitting right before you. 

You took a shaky breath. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him more. Pouring straight acid into his wound would hurt more, but that’s what it felt like you were about to do. 

“The hydrogen peroxide is going to hurt,” you explained. “And I feel... bad.”

Surprisingly, even with everything that made up this situation, Spider-Man laughed. A real, genuine laugh. A laugh that made you burst into a smile with how realizing how ridiculous every point of this situation was. 

“Don’t feel bad. If I was looking to feel bad, I would have stuck around the guy who did this to me.”

“Alright.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Thank you, Y/N, for the warn-” His words were cut short as he hissed in pain, the towel now firmly pressed against the wound. It only lasted for thirty seconds, the amount of time you deemed necessary for the antibacterial to start working. 

“Holy  _ shit _ , that actually did hurt,” he admitted. 

“I told you.” You tossed the towel into the garbage before picking up the neosporin. 

“I thought you were joking!” 

You shook your head. “Never said I was.”

The masked hero scoffed. You could only smirk as you finished bandaging and cleaning the wound, applying gauze and neosporin before wrapping it to the best of your ability with strategically placed medical tape. 

“You’re all done,” you said after admiring your work for a moment. Seeing him bandaged up and in a significantly better condition than before made your heart happy. 

He tested your work by rotating his shoulder slowly, seeing the muscles and bandages flex under strain. Satisfied, he carefully pulled the sleeve of his suit back on. He then hit the spider-logo, and soon enough, he was the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man everyone knew.

“Thank you.”

Turning your back to him, you continued to clean up your supplies. “No problem.”

“No, I really mean it. Thank you.”

“It’s really no pro-”

His hand grabbed your elbow, and he quickly spun you to face him. The white of his mask were the only things you could focus on, almost consuming your entire field of vision.

“You didn’t have to do this, you could have just turned me away. So,  _ thank you _ .”

You paused a moment. This obviously meant so much to him. An authentic response was something he wanted. 

“You’re welcome,” you said decisively. 

In such close proximity to him, you could have sworn there was an inkling of a smile underneath the mask. 

After a beat too long, he finally let go of your elbow. A rush of blood seemed to make it back to where he was holding on so tightly. Although it hurt, you would never show it. He stayed just as close, however. 

“How’s your project going?” He asked, changing the subject. You wanted to poke and prod his mindset more, but you let it slide. 

“Good,” you responded. “Funnily enough, I was working on it when you started knocking.”

He spoke with a joking and light-hearted tone to his voice. “You seemed  _ really _ invested.”

“I have an interesting subject to write about,” you brushed off.

That got another laugh out of him. It sent a rush through your body, a giddiness you were excited by. God, if only you could hang around him more. If only this wasn’t all coincidences, if only this was something resembling a real and sustainable friendship.

A simple “ _ Hey” _ brought you out of your mindset and back down to earth. Spider-Man looked at you expectantly, as if you had an answer for the most wondered question in the universe.

“So, what do you think?”

“Of what?”

The eyes of his mask narrowed before returning to their normal size. “We both have something that the other wants. You, you have a good sense of humor and a safe place for me to get bandaged up without being lectured. I’m the subject of a very important school project for you. Think of it as an exchange of goods and services.”

Something inside of you wanted to protest this idea. Something  _ really _ wanted to shrug this off as nonsense, and shake your head and say goodbye. But another part, the part that was pounding with adrenaline and going a million miles a minute had already decided. 

“Alright, Spider-Man. You have a deal.” 

You stuck your hand out for a handshake, and he quickly grabbed onto it and shook it. 

“I’ll be back in the future with whatever injuries I have. If you have a deadline before then…” 

“I’ll find out some way to get into contact,” you supplied.   


He nodded, before taking a step onto the windowsill. “Thanks again, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Spider-Man.”

And with that, he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao sorry guys this took literally 3 MONTHS! :-) if you're still here thank you so much for reading this. haven't had time to write with working and school. had an itch to continue this, and i felt bad leaving you guys wanting more. please enjoy this part! if you want more please let me know love yall. also im aware that this is like horrible first aid method but trust me, this is SUPPOSED TO BE HORRIBLE FIRST AID, i got it under control. also sorry if spiderman/peter is super OOC in this one i have to get back into the mindset, you know


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